Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Divorce Papers and a Newborn
I was 39 weeks pregnant, eagerly nesting for our daughter, Emily. Our Austin home was filled with dreams of a perfect new family. My ambitious architect husband, Ethan, traveled constantly for "high-stakes" projects. But I trusted our future. Then, breaking news flashed across the screen: a military coup in South America. On it, his award-winning documentary filmmaker ex-girlfriend, Olivia, was caught in the chaos, presumed in grave danger. That same night, as my first contractions began, Ethan dropped a bombshell. He was flying to South America immediately. Not for business, but for her. He walked out as my water broke. He was choosing his ex over his wife and unborn child. Days later, news of Ethan's critical injury reached me. It unleashed a barrage of demands from his family and friends. They expected me to rescue him, to pay his escalating medical bills. They expected me to be the forgiving "dutiful wife"—despite his shocking betrayal. But the deepest cut came when my lawyer unearthed the truth. For years, Ethan had been secretly siphoning thousands from our joint savings. He was taking from our daughter's future, funneling it to Olivia's 'humanitarian' non-profit. It wasn't just abandonment. It was a cold, systematic betrayal, built on lies. How could he do this to us, to Emily? I refused to follow his family's script. When a critically injured Ethan finally returned, expecting forgiveness and a tearful reunion, I was there. Not as a heartbroken wife. Instead, I was armed with divorce papers and a fierce determination to reclaim every penny he stole. This was my battle, for Emily and for me. It was the beginning of a new life on our own terms./1/105654/coverorgin.jpg?v=80d180e8824307000e4363f307624cfc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Escape: The Billionaire Won't Sign
I returned to New York with two scuffed suitcases and a broken heart, ready to end my three-year exile as a ghost wife. All I wanted was to sign the divorce papers, move my dying mother to hospice, and vanish from the billionaire Spears family forever. But the moment I stepped into the penthouse, I saw a pair of expensive red-bottomed heels by the door that weren't mine. Carlyle, the husband who hadn't spoken to me in years, was already moving his mistress into our home before the ink on our separation agreement was even dry. The humiliation was only the beginning. Carlyle treated me like an intruder in my own house, yet he forced me to attend high-society galas as his "perfect" wife to protect his reputation. When I tried to leave, he froze my bank accounts, leaving me unable to pay for my mother’s life-saving treatment. He watched my desperation with cold, predatory eyes, flaunting his new romance in the tabloids while keeping me trapped in his freezing home. My mother’s doctors warned me she was running out of time, but Carlyle only used her illness as a leash to keep me from running. I didn't understand why he was doing this to me. I had clearly signed away the money and the name, so why wouldn't he let me go? Why did he have me watched for years if he hated me so much? Why was he flaunting another woman while refusing to sign the papers that would set us both free? What did he want from a woman he claimed to despise? When I finally cornered him with the final decree, Carlyle didn't pick up the pen. He snatched the folder, a flicker of cold triumph in his icy eyes. "The terms are wrong, Beatrix. I'm adding an employment clause. You’re going to work for me, in my office, where I can keep you under my thumb 24/7." He didn't just refuse to sign the papers; he had just turned my divorce into a permanent prison sentence./1/102056/coverorgin.jpg?v=2c19c8de1dddb3eda4182d1bee845be6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Return From Grave: Reclaiming My Betrayed Heart
I returned to Boston after three years, not for forgiveness, but to die. My family, who blamed me for my mother's death, had cast me out, replacing me with a quiet, grateful orphan named Gabriela. She stole my father's love, my brother's affection, and my childhood sweetheart, Corey. Now, terminally ill, my only wish was to reclaim my mother's wedding dress, a final piece of her to hold onto. But Gabriela was wearing it to marry Corey. When I confronted her, she destroyed my mother's locket and cursed me to drop dead. In a blind rage, I slapped her. She shrieked, stabbed her own arm, and framed me for the attack. As my family and Corey looked on with disgust, calling me a maniac, my body gave out. I collapsed, coughing up blood, my secret illness revealed in the most brutal way possible. "You always blame me," I gasped, the words bubbling out with blood. "But I was just... dying." Their faces filled with dawning horror, but it was too late. I was already gone. Until I opened my eyes again, and my mother, who had been waiting for me all along, took my hand. "We'll be reborn," she promised, her eyes blazing with fury at the family who had destroyed me. "Together. As mother and daughter, again."/0/82345/coverorgin.jpg?v=4be47fd7c4878ce7f4088a3b408b50ec&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Their Blinded Betrayal
I was dying of aggressive leukemia, my last chance for life, a revolutionary CAR T-cell therapy, within reach. My own family - my husband, David, and my parents - colluded to steal that life-saving treatment, diverting it to my cousin Jessie, who feigned vague illnesses for attention. Condemned to palliative care, I watched them celebrate Jessie's "recovery" while dismissing my worsening symptoms as "drama" or "negativity." I was forced to sign over everything I' d built-my beloved bakery, my bookstore, my investments-to the very woman who was orchestrating my demise. Adding insult to injury, David asked for a divorce, planning to move Jessie into our home and enthralling my son with her false charm. They called my quiet compliance "sensible," completely blind to the fact that I, sick and betrayed, was merely settling my affairs as a dying woman. How could they be so utterly oblivious, so consumed by a manipulative charade, while their daughter lay dying before their eyes? But their blind betrayal ignited a cold resolve: my surrender was merely the prelude to a posthumous retribution, carefully orchestrated in my final moments through a secret will and damning evidence, now entrusted to a shark lawyer to unleash upon them all./0/81250/coverorgin.jpg?v=108ba4770de83dfe01f8a73441c7dfe5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Man's Triumph
My wife, Vicky Sterling, delivered the news over breakfast as casually as she' d asked for more coffee: she was pregnant, and the father was Julian Vance, her personal trainer, who was also moving into our penthouse today. I felt the last thread snap. She told me I' d be moving into the guest room, as Julian preferred the master suite. This was just the latest in eight years of humiliation, where I' d gone from architect to trophy husband, then just… Ethan. My family' s firm had been saved by hers, but it cost me everything. When I tried to leave, her contempt was a familiar sting, reminding me I was nothing without her. The final insult came when Julian, a preening narcissist, lunged for my grandfather' s Purple Heart, the only thing of true value I owned, and it shattered. Then, the real torture began: Vicky, concerned only for Julian' s barely scratched nail, forced me to undergo a horrific skin graft, even as my own head bled from hitting a table. Later, Julian framed me for kidnapping myself, and Vicky, believing him, then locked me in a burning cellar. How could the woman I once loved, the one who controlled my entire life, be so utterly cruel, so blind to the monster she embraced? Lying there, choked by smoke, I realized this life was a charade. But then, a glimmer of hope: my old housekeeper, Maria, opened the door, and I heard Olivia' s voice, a promise of freedom in Austin. I was done./0/88759/coverorgin.jpg?v=f49b37cc61695ee2bc4f78868218339f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Echoes of a Broken Vow
Kathleen was diagnosed with liver cancer and needed a transplant. To her shock, she discovered that her husband of five years, Joshua, not only intended to give the liver to someone else but also had a mistress and an illegitimate child outside their marriage. Upon learning the truth, Kathleen was utterly heartbroken. She realized that she couldn't hold onto a man who had betrayed her, but she was determined to reclaim the liver that she had been promised as a donor match. Kathleen dialed a number she hadn't contacted in five years. "I'm going to Jaxperton for surgery. Come pick me up in three days." But after she left, Joshua was driven to desperation./0/93765/coverorgin.jpg?v=5206e207efee1382b328280d923d754f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stolen Melody, A Love Betrayed
My fiancé, Jake, and my sister, Brittany, stole the song I had poured my soul into for three years. It was my masterpiece, the one that was supposed to define our careers together. I heard their entire plan through the half-open door of the recording studio. "It' s the only way you' ll win the Vanguard Award, Brit," Jake insisted. "This is your one shot." My own family was in on it. "She' s the talent, I know, but she can' t handle the pressure," Brittany said, quoting our parents. "It' s better this way, for the family." They saw me as an engine, a tool, not a daughter or the woman Jake was supposed to marry in three months. The truth was a slow, freezing poison. The man I loved, the family who raised me-they had been feeding on my talent since the day I was born. And the baby I was carrying? It wasn't a symbol of our future; it was just the final lock on the cage they'd built around me. Later, Jake found me trembling on our apartment floor, feigning concern. He pulled me into an embrace, murmuring into my hair, "We have so much to look forward to. We have to think about the baby." That's when I knew exactly what I had to do. The next day, I made a call. As Jake listened in on another line, his voice cracking with a panic that was finally real, I calmly spoke into the phone. "Yes, hello. I' d like to confirm my appointment for tomorrow." "The one for the… procedure."/0/61539/coverorgin.jpg?v=7675cf3f7ee723c6d32bda7cb4ddcfca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Deceived into Acting in Mini-series
Here's the translation: "I’m on vacation and I’m planning to find a summer job. Aunt Kyla said that serving plates is too hard, so she introduced me to a job as a stunt double for a short play. I didn’t think much and went straight there, but the location turned out to be a hotel. They said they were going to film a scene where the female lead gets choked to death. When I saw that the room was full of men, I got scared and wanted to run away. But they grabbed me by the neck and pinned me down on the bed: 'What are you pretending to be a virtuous woman for? I already gave Aunt Kyla 5,000 yuan for you. You think you can escape?! Dream on!' I struggled desperately, but in the end, they tore my clothes and made me wear strange outfits, and I suffocated to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Aunt Kyla introduced me to the job. Ha, such a good job is better left for your own daughter to do!"/1/101587/coverorgin.jpg?v=0a1238ca0da9828d71481c084f7dd863&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Girl He Called Practice
I turned down a full scholarship to Stanford to follow my boyfriend of ten years to Columbia. I thought my sacrifice was an act of love, until I heard him laughing with his best friend in the kitchen. He was speaking French, confident that his "simple" girlfriend couldn't understand a word. "Elle était juste une pratique," he sneered. "She was just practice. A training session. That' s all." My blood ran cold. He went on to explain that I was just a "safety net" to keep his bed warm while he pursued his real target, a famous model named Bella. He claimed I was pathetic, loyal, and would never leave him. The irony? I had spent years secretly mastering French to impress his grandmother. I understood every single insult. I didn't confront him. I didn't make a scene. I simply walked into the bedroom, withdrew my application from Columbia, and accepted the offer from Stanford. By the time he realized his "safety net" was gone, I was already across the country, and he was blocked on everything./0/84379/coverorgin.jpg?v=4c27bdc88ec6225df16c449c3445a9c9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Duchess's Advocate: Reborn For Justice
The acrid smell of antiseptic and fear hit me first, a phantom scent from a life I' d already lost. I was back, standing under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the 24/7 animal emergency hospital, on the same exhaustion-laden shift I' d worked before. My phone buzzed with a text from Molly, my best friend: "Thanks again for covering, Gabs! You' re a lifesaver. Brian and I owe you one!" Brian. My husband. Molly. My best friend. The names twisted in my gut, bringing back the crushing weight of their betrayal, the public shame, the cold click of a bathroom door. I remembered the screaming, the accusations, and Duchess, the champion show dog, lifeless in her kennel. I remembered Brian' s cold eyes, Molly' s fake concern, and the news of their luxury car business, bought with my life insurance money. They didn' t just ruin my life; they murdered it. But they failed. I was back, at the exact moment my universe began to unravel. This time, I wasn' t the broken woman who ended it all. My name is Gabrielle Fuller, and this time, things would be different./0/83284/coverorgin.jpg?v=d48bdb10bfda56afbbc788cf8f5f3bf0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No More Sacrifices
The smell of cheap hotdogs and burnt sugar hung heavy in the air. I stood there, watching Jake Henderson, the town's golden boy, showing off on the old wooden tower. Just like before, he was about to fall. Last time, I sacrificed everything. I became his human shield, shattering my hand, losing my art scholarship, and condemning myself to a lifetime of his manipulation and infidelity. He married me out of supposed obligation, then poisoned our children against me, constantly whispering how I' d supposedly stolen his chance with Tiffany, his 'white moonlight' who' d effortlessly claimed my future. I died alone, full of agonizing regret in a sterile room, my dreams turned to ash. But now, I was back. Frozen at the exact same moment, watching him teeter. A cold, unwavering resolve washed over me. No. More. Sacrifices. This time, I wouldn't move an inch. Let him fall. This was my chance to shatter the chains of the past, reclaim my stolen future, and finally build a life free from Jake./1/101431/coverorgin.jpg?v=85f3f1e8a02a90a42fe70602f00cd059&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Obsessive Husband's Golden Prison
After three years as his secret, I finally got the fairytale wedding I'd always dreamed of. My husband, Addison Parker, was finally free from his family's control, and he chose me. Carrying his twin babies, I flew across the country to surprise him on a business trip, only to overhear him talking to his best friend. "She's too sweet," he said, his voice casual. "Like chewing gum that's lost its flavor." His words shattered my world. The man who knelt at my feet, tears in his eyes, promising me forever, saw me as nothing more than a bland convenience. The betrayal was so absolute, so cruel, that I walked into a hospital the next day and terminated the pregnancy. When he found out, his love twisted into a dark obsession. He locked me in our penthouse, a prisoner in a gilded cage. "I could give you something," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light. "Something to make you forget. To make you happy again." He planned to drug me, to erase my memories and my pain, turning me into his perfect, smiling doll forever. But he underestimated me. I had a plan of my own./0/82815/coverorgin.jpg?v=3be1e022c6ac183d784dc65bdb50eb05&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The System's Choice, Her Refusal
The National STEM Innovators Challenge was my last hope. My little brother, Leo, desperately needed experimental treatment for his rare genetic condition. Winning the astronomical prize money was the only way to save his life. But every round, it was the same nightmare: Tiffany Harrington, my relentless rival, would beat me. Not by much, but by an impossible, precise ten points, mirroring crushing defeats from a past I couldn't escape. No matter how flawless my code or how innovative my robotic design, Tiff' s score would appear exactly ten points higher. My own boyfriend, Jake, sided with her, dismissing my suspicions as "sore losing," drawn by her family's wealth and influence. Tiff' s cruel taunts about Leo' s deteriorating health twisted the knife deeper, leaving me feeling utterly alone and powerless. How could this be happening again? How did she always predict the exact margin? It wasn't just cheating; it felt like a predetermined, relentless pattern designed to break me, as if an invisible force was pulling the strings, defying all logic and fairness. Desperate to crack this impossible code, I decided I had to test it. In the final round of the Challenge, I would do the unthinkable: submit absolutely nothing. I had to know if this "ten-point rule" was absolute, even if it meant risking everything for Leo./0/84223/coverorgin.jpg?v=8b445d30bff60a345a89e3bf03bddae6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Playing the Long Game: A Twin's Revenge
My twin brother, Ethan, was always the golden child, adored by our parents, effortlessly charming. I was the "difficult" one, often overlooked, watching from the porch as two smiling women lured Ethan with a rare comic book. Then, a sudden, blinding change. One moment I was an observer, the next I was in the back of their van, the world a dizzying blur, Ethan smirking from where I had stood. They sold me. For ten years, I was a ghost in a life not my own, trapped with a clan of survivalists in the Appalachian mountains, enduring abuse and forced labor. When I was finally found, broken and scarred, Ethan pulled his final trick. He swapped us back, instantly spinning a tale of how I, out of jealousy, had orchestrated his abduction. My own parents, without a shred of hesitation, believed him, seeing only a damaged stranger. They decided to commit me to a psychiatric hospital. How could my family, my own twin, betray me so utterly? Why was I always the one discarded, the one forgotten? But then I woke up, the smell of bacon filling the air, back in my childhood bed. It was the same day. This time, I wouldn't just watch./0/83441/coverorgin.jpg?v=bc7b55fdad1bbaf9da25d66f2e62f99c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn in Flames: The Chief's Reckoning
The emergency sirens wailed, another Diablo Wind fire ripping through our valley, just like the last time. As an elite smokejumper and daughter of a Cal Fire legend, I knew these fires. I also knew my husband, Fire Chief Caleb, was supposed to be leading the fight. But in my last life, Caleb's betrayal cost me everything; he left me to die in a blizzard after our baby was stillborn, all because he loved Chloe, his childhood friend, more. Now, reborn into this same nightmare, I knew the fire wasn't the only threat-Caleb was using it as a cover for his affair with Chloe, burning through vital resources while abandoning his post. When I tried to reach out for aid, Caleb convinced his loyal friend, Sheriff Brody, that I was having a psychotic break, framing me as the arsonist. Brody, blinded by Caleb's lies, prevented my escape, causing me to fall and tragically lose my unborn child. Our town was devastated, and Brody's deputies were lost, all while I was held captive, my pleas ignored. Why did Caleb consistently choose deception and destruction? How could a man sworn to protect his community, his family, be so utterly monstrous, and then twist the truth to blame me? The injustice of it all, compounded by the loss of my child, ignited a cold, hard rage inside me, dulling the grief. But then, my sister-in-law, Maya, discovered undeniable evidence from a trail cam: Chloe wasn't just Caleb's mistress, she was intimately connected to "Phoenix," the eco-terrorist who started the fire. Brody, witnessing the true villainy and the devastation his blind loyalty wrought, broke down, offering me his absolute allegiance. With my new purpose forged in tragedy, I knew exactly how I would use his guilt and his position to systematically dismantle Caleb's world, piece by agonizing piece./0/23995/coverorgin.jpg?v=d65c01e8f06a92b56b67e97dd9ef5e11&imageMogr2/format/webp)
CEO's Priceless Disfigured Wife
Angus Smith is the most powerful president who controls the national economy, while Tammy Wood is a seriously disfigured lady who was exiled by her family. However, she had been loving him for over 15 years since she met him at the age of 5. Thus when he proposed a marriage, she was so happy that she expected a new life. However, the truth was that their marriage was totally a plot. Upon the truth being revealed, Tammy was almost torn to pieces and escaped from him with their baby. Four years later, she was stopped by Angus as soon as she came back. It seems that Angus has regretted what he had done. So he just holds Tammy in arms tightly and decides to love her forever and ever!/0/98772/coverorgin.jpg?v=6d72f26e6a7096cca42780b451ed8f2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Cage Of Their Perfect Lie
My husband, Grayson Daugherty, threw me out of his car in the pouring rain to rush to another woman's side. That was the night I learned our marriage was a lie, a carefully constructed cage to protect his real love. But the deception ran deeper than I could have imagined. When I tried to leave, my own family betrayed me, beating me until I bled just to keep their precious business alliance intact. My life's work, my photography, was stolen by his mistress, Kennedy, and he locked me in a dark basement, using my deepest childhood trauma as a weapon to force my silence. I was just a pawn, a shield, a sacrifice on the altar of their epic love. Stripped of my family, my art, and my heart, I finally understood. If they wanted a storm, I would become a hurricane. I burned our penthouse to the ground and walked away, ready to destroy the man who broke me. But I never expected him to follow me to the ends of the earth, ready to die just to prove his love was real./0/90168/coverorgin.jpg?v=e288ea1de15bb9d0ff8eede2b9ea1361&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Husband, My Enemy
I suspended a five-year-old student named Leo for pushing another child down the stairs. As the head child psychologist at an elite academy, I was used to difficult children, but there was a chilling emptiness in Leo's eyes. That evening, I was abducted in the faculty parking lot, dragged into a van, and beaten unconscious. I woke up in a hospital, every inch of my body aching. A kind nurse let me use her phone to call my husband, Franco. When he didn't answer, I opened his social media page, my heart pounding with fear for him. But he was fine. A new video, posted just thirty minutes ago, showed him in a hospital room, gently peeling an apple for the little boy I had suspended. "Daddy," Leo whined. "That teacher was mean to me." My husband's voice, the voice I had loved for a decade, was a soothing murmur. "I know, buddy. Daddy already took care of it. She won't ever bother you again." The world tilted on its axis. The attack wasn't random. The man who had vowed to protect me forever, my loving husband, had tried to have me killed. For another woman's child. Our entire life was a lie. Then the police delivered the final blow: our five-year marriage had never been legally registered. As I lay there, broken, I remembered the wedding gift he'd given me—40% of his company. He thought it was a symbol of his ownership. He was about to find out it was his death sentence./1/104091/coverorgin.jpg?v=f859edaae9e97d075e04e10a0bff30fa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Left To Burn: My Husband's Betrayal
For ten years, I loved Holden Jackson, even marrying him knowing I was just a stand-in for his true love, Isabelle. I played the part of the perfect, predictable wife, hoping one day he' d finally see me. That hope died the night our mansion caught fire. He burst into our smoke-filled bedroom, looked right at me, then scooped up our dog and ran, leaving me to burn. It was a chilling echo of the day I miscarried our child, screaming for him while he comforted Isabelle next door. He never came for me then, and he didn't come for me now. In that inferno, watching him save the dog over his own wife, I didn't feel pain or anger. I felt nothing. The naive girl who loved him was finally dead, incinerated along with my last shred of hope. So when I woke up in the hospital to a text confirming my divorce was final, I didn't cry. I booked a one-way ticket to Geneva. This time, I was choosing to save myself. Here we go./0/85475/coverorgin.jpg?v=a317ec02131490b3727d787e996e1384&imageMogr2/format/webp)
